


Salve

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-30
Updated: 2008-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron's scars from the Department of Mysteries require a salve only Severus Snape can help brew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salve

**Author's Note:**

> Written for strickens_girl, who requested Ron/Severus in which "Severus is helping Ron deal with the fallout from the brain scars."

"Is there a specific reason for you to lurk in the corridor outside my office, Mr. Weasley?"

Severus saw Ronald hesitate outside his door before the boy scowled.

"Ah." Severus leaned back steepling his fingertips. "You enjoy the damp of the dungeons in the evenings, perhaps?"

Ron took a step and another, until he stood at the threshold of Severus's office. "Pomfrey said --"

"Madam Pomfrey," Severus corrected.

"Madam Pomfrey," the boy mumbled. With his eyes cast down, Ron rolled up his sleeves and extended his arms.

Severus gazed at the corded scars of various lengths and lurid hues crisscrossing over Ron's pale freckled skin.

"She said she has nothing that can get rid of them," Ron said softly. "I thought maybe even though she -- seeing as how you're a Potions expert --"

"I see. You obviously assumed I would volunteer my precious little leisure time to assuaging your vanity by developing a no doubt difficult ointment to perform a task that our school's skilled and practiced healer has deemed beyond her ken?"

Ron looked at him, eyes blazing. "I should have known you wouldn't --"

Severus returned his gaze to the stack of parchments on his desk, and picked up his quill once more. "Eight o'clock tonight. You will brew the salve under my instructions, not just for you but seven cauldrons full, enough to last the infirmary for two years. If necessary, you will return every night to complete this task, even if it takes more than a week."

He glanced up to see the boy staring at him.

"I -- yeah, okay. I'll be there."

"Not a minute later than eight o'clock," Severus added as he resumed his grading.

He heard the padding of Ron's shoes retreating. Before they faded entirely, the words, "Thank you," were spoken low.

Severus sighed and let his quill drop.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

The end of term came two days later.

Severus gave no thought to changing the arrangements to which Ronald had agreed, even though he customarily did not require or even invite students to his work room once classes ended.

It was, however, obvious that Ronald had forgotten the upcoming vacation when he asked in a shocked voice, "You want me to come back to Hogwarts during the hols?"

"I did say you would return every night until the conclusion of your task."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Ron's expression clouded, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll have to tell my Mum --"

"Who has already been informed you are to return by Floo to my office each evening until your work is completed." Severus gestured at a cloth-wrapped bundle that sat atop a pile of parchments on his desk. "She has already sent me what I have been reliably informed is some sort of edible seed cake by way of thank you."

At that Ron scowled. Severus expected him to protest the arrangements of the nightly sessions, or to whine about why Severus could not finish the process on his own.

But instead he said, "It's very _good_ seed cake, so you needn't talk like eating it will be a hardship."

"Ah." Severus gave him a blank look to disguise the quirk threatening to upturn the edges of his mouth. Interesting that the boy found greater insult in the suggestion the products of his mother's baking were less than desirable. For whatever reason, he apparently ranked less offensive the prospect of spending multiple summer evenings with a detested Professor.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

Ron returned each night to add new items such as finely chopped rosemary and slivered ginger to the already simmering mixtures of jobberknoll feathers and lionfish spines. He followed instructions without articulated complaints, though his mouth tightened several times when Severus ordered him to prepare clumsily sliced ingredients a second or even a third time, or when Severus snorted at one of his mistakes and corrected the error with an accompanying lecture on the importance of paying attention.

After only a few days passed, Severus became used to seeing Ronald's red head bent over in concentration, his long denim-clad legs jittering restlessly while his gangly arms, exposed in a short-sleeved Muggle t-shirt, flexed with the motions of stirring and chopping and measuring.

It took a several nights for Severus to remember he should feel irritated that the boy apparently declined to wear wizards' clothing during the holidays. Though obviously Ronald wished to be rid of the scars from his Ministry encounter, his choice of threadbare t-shirts put the marks on prominent display, along with his overabundance of freckles. Of even less pragmatic value were his Muggle jeans, hardly appropriate for Potions work, and not at all the sort of garb to impress upon their wearer the gravity of creating a complicated salve.

Yet Severus could not muster his customary aggravation at Ronald's lack of proper dress. Instead he found himself observing Ronald as he waited for the boy to add the measure of liquids and powders to each of the cauldrons in turn, taking note of his appearance in a manner that traditional robes would not have allowed. Occasionally Ronald's arms would be reddened from the sun, or his jeans would bear tears or splotches of dirt, presumably from working in the gardens at his family's home. Some of the t-shirts bore aphorisms or odd illustrations, but there seemed to be no overall theme to their messages.

Once while he gazed at Ronald's broad shoulders for longer than strictly necessary, he realized that his student had taken note of his attentions. He stopped as he found blue eyes trained on him, their hue as wide and clear as the summer skies.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

Severus resolved to bring not only the latest Potions publications but also the evening edition of the Prophet to their sessions from that point on in order to have sufficient material to remain occupied.

As the supply of salve continued its development, however, he still had to watch, if only to keep an eye on the fumbling progress and prevent any immanent explosions. Generally a glance up from his reading or note-taking would provide him with enough details to gauge the situation. Some nights, though, he trained his gaze upon Ron only to find Ron watching back.

Though admonitions suggested themselves, they never passed his lip. The reminder of summer holiday that Ron brought into the dungeons on his person -- in the form of his burnished skin and faint scent of grass and dirt and boy and sweat -- stalled such responses. Invariably at such times when their eyes met, Ron looked away, cheeks coloring, and Severus would merely grunt and return to his own occupations.

On the sixth night, Ron stepped through the Floo with a gooseberry tart.

Severus examined it before setting the tart on a clean worktable. Ron looked up from a cauldron, wand in one hand and a bottle of Murtlap essence waiting to be added drop by drop in the other, only to send a challenging look his way.

The purpose, however, was unclear, and so Severus chose to say nothing, except to interject the occasional order as Ron frowned over his potion.

"Again tomorrow?" Ron asked as he fidgeted in front of the Floo a few hours later. "What, it's done already?" he asked when Severus did not respond. For some reason, he seemed apprehensive at the prospect, though Severus could not imagine why that would be.

"No, a few more nights will be required. I thought perhaps . . . " Severus cleared his throat and gestured back at the worktables. "I thought you might wish to share some of this with me."

Ron glanced at the tart, and then looked at Severus, his eyes wide. "Yeah, okay."

Ron had two slices to Severus's one, and was dragging the last bit of crust on his fork through the cream pooling on his plate (Severus had one of the house elves fetch it from the kitchens), when he said in an off-hand manner, "I helped make this."

Severus paused, thinking at first the boy meant the potion on which they were collaborating. A scrape of Ron's fork changed his mind, though, and he surmised the object under consideration was in fact the tart.

Ron snuck a glance at him, burnt gold eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he looked glumly back down at his plate.

"It seems better than adequate," Severus said finally.

Ron snorted, making a sound not unlike the one Severus himself often made. Then he ducked his head to hide his grin.

"Well, then." Severus rose, gathering the crockery and cutlery in an obvious gesture of dismissal.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

It had been nearly a fortnight.

Under Severus's scrutiny, Ronald increased the heat simmering his potion, added carefully sliced daisy roots, and stirred the mixture in the cauldrons thrice before adjusting the flame underneath to its previous strength. The process had to be repeated three dozen times, and took the better part of two hours.

At several junctures, Severus caught Ron giving him a half-smile. There was something about the expression that created a strange sensation in Severus's gut, and each time he looked away quickly.

Severus frowned over the substance in the cauldrons once he was alone. His custom with potions requested by students, and indeed his requirement for this dealing with Ronald Weasley, dictated that he leave the work to Ron until all was finished. He had not revealed the work would, at the pace he had set Ron, take up to three weeks, thinking of it as a punishment for the boy's presumption. Yet having Ron in his classroom night after night was proving to be a sort of exquisite punishment for Severus rather than Ron, one he had completely failed to anticipate.

Yet it would be best to keep to the plan of having his student brew the medicinal mixture himself, he reflected. Even though he could speed progress easily, shaving off a few days if he put in an hour or so after Ron's departure each evening, the thought of doing without that flash of red hair, those clear blue eyes, that bend and dip as Ron turned or added ingredients for the remainder of the summer . . .

The memory of Ron's small smile returned, and something fluttered in Severus's chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled loudly, and then walked to fetch some ingredients from his stores.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

The next night Ron tumbled into the office all brightness, gangly limbs, and babbling words, completely incongruous in Severus's dark, compact, and orderly laboratory.

"Sorry I'm a few minutes late -- I know you hate that! -- but Charlie's been home for two weeks, and we played a few rounds of two-on-two Quidditch. Then we got to talking about his time at school, and he had some stories about when he took Potions --"

"Your salve is ready," Severus interrupted him.

Ron gaped like a fish struggling for breath out of water.

Severus thrust a sealed jar of the ointment at Ron.

"That's it, then?" Ron asked. He turned the jar over in his hands.

"For the first week, you are to apply it just before each meal, and again when you retire for the night. After that, use only before you go to bed. Don't slop it on; a small measure per arm will do. According to my readings, results will begin to show in a month."

"So we're done?"

Severus drew himself up. "I cannot imagine why you would think otherwise; was this not the objective of our evenings spent forcibly together?"

Ron's swallowed. "Right." He clasped the container in both hands, his knuckles white. "You've enough for your stores?"

A curt nod was all the answer Severus gave.

"Thank you." He sighed and stared at the jar, smoothing his thumb over the simple label Severus had attached to it. "I didn't expect --"

"Yes, yes, you are welcome. Our arrangement is complete." Severus inclined his head towards the fireplace. "Off with you."

Ron looked like he wanted to say a great many things; his expression was stormy and surprisingly eloquent for a boy less than rhetorically gifted. However, he turned and left at once, speaking only the words that would take him away from Severus.

 

 

*** ~ * ~ ***

 

 

A week passed. Severus waited for the feeling of relief from being finished with Ron Weasley to wash over him, but it did not come. He was irritated to discover that he had become so accustomed to Ron's nightly visits that his mind now perceived them as expected and habitual, rather than rightly viewing them as interruptions to his standard holiday routine.

He did not _miss_ the boy, obviously. Perhaps he became rather curter than was his custom to the house elves and the other denizens of Hogwarts, developed the habit of scowling to himself whilst brewing, and grew increasingly impatient with his research because he was no longer used to his custom of spending evenings alone, not because of the particular person who had been occupying his time.

In the last analysis the specific reasoning seemed not to matter; any evidence of feeling out-of-sorts that might potentially be ascribed to Ron's discontinued presence irritated him even more.

One evening he completed work on a simple potion, and cleaned up with more vigor than required. He sighed as he spelled the cauldrons clean and removed the residue from his hands and person with familiar charms. Perhaps he ought to turn in for the evening; for whatever reason, sleep had not come easily to him of late.

The sound of a throat clearing behind him made him whirl into position, wand raised, ready to hurl hexes.

Ron Weasley gave a nervous bark of laughter, shifting from one foot to the other.

Severus stopped and stared. He watched red tinge Ron's cheeks.

"Do you want to, er . . . " Ron indicated Severus's wand, and Severus scowled as he lowered it.

"What do you mean by surprising me in this way?" he demanded.

"Oh, it's just -- well." Ron held out his arms.

The scars Severus had seen first weeks ago were as prominent as ever.

"I told you it would be at least a month before you began to see results."

"I know that. It's just -- am I putting it on right?" Ron's voice seemed rough. "I can't tell, and I thought if there's anyone who would be able to know, it's you."

"Ah." Severus took one step forward, then another. "Do you have --"

Ron fumbled the container of salve out of his pocket and handed it over.

"Follow me." He led Ron into his office, and gestured at one of the comfortable chairs to the side of his desk, usually reserved for colleagues rather than students.

"I might not be putting enough on, or maybe too much, I'm not certain --"

"Hush." After pulling up another chair to a more convenient distance, Severus took Ron's extended arm and used a modicum of the lotion to cover it with a thin veneer. He stroked up and down, making sure all of the affected skin received equal treatment, pausing on occasion as his fingers skimmed the worst of the marks.

"Are you observing the appropriate amount?" he asked. His voice sounded strained to his own ears.

Ron's eyes were nearly closed. "I -- yeah." He blinked down at his arm, and Severus realized he had continued to skim fingertips along skin that was otherwise quite soft. "Maybe if you showed me on the other one," Ron said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Severus replied by way of taking Ron's other arm, pausing before scooping out more ointment to trail a finger down the scars. Odd how he had imagined the two arms would have symmetrical reminders of the wounding. Each was entirely different for anyone who took the time to examine them closely.

He had massaged the salve in fully and was stroking along the faintest of the scars just along the inside of Ron's elbow when Ron drew in a sharp breath.

Severus stilled, but did not drop his hold.

"That's -- it feels better, I think. Thanks." Ron did not step away, and his arm trembled ever so slightly in Severus's grasp.

"Hmmm." He slid his hand down to scratch lightly over the blue veins pressing against Ron's wrist. "Of course, to be absolutely sure the ointment is applied to allow maximum effectiveness, you might return here in the evenings and have me do a proper job of applying it."

Ron simply nodded before meeting Severus's gaze with those blue eyes of his. "Before bedtime," he clarified in a hoarse voice.

After a pause, Severus confirmed, "Yes." He cleared his throat. "Here, if you would, rather than the workroom. I expect we will find it more accommodating to our present needs."

Ron glanced around the room, taking in the large desk, the various seating arrangements, and the lounge Severus had tucked into the corner. "I'll come straight here."

When Ron disappeared into the Floo moments later, Severus shook his head in a brisk motion. "Really, it is the only solution," he said aloud to the empty room.

Naturally the prospect of any student interrupting him in his office each night for what looked to be the remainder of the holiday was entirely unwelcome. Severus felt most reassured by his assumed view on the matter as he finished straightening his desk, barely noticing the tuneless ditty he hummed as he worked.


End file.
